


The boy and the sea

by valia67



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Nature, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:10:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valia67/pseuds/valia67
Summary: They were safe now; Thomas could start a new life. This haven was their second chance, the chance they were robbed from by WCKD. Watching the sea unfold its waves, the boy thinks about those who couldn't be there.





	The boy and the sea

**Author's Note:**

> A little story I decided to write because the end of the Death Cure was just... beautiful... Those kids have suffered so much, I'm so glad they can finally rest! Anyway here is my insight (worth what it's worth) of Thomas' mind...
> 
> Also, you can listen to BTS' song "Sea", especially the instrumental, which I find particularly suiting for the read...

 

            Thomas watched the sea. The waves, sewn of blue and white, softly hurled foam towards his bare feet. The cerulean waters almost merged with an azure sky, like a reassuring celestial blanket; there were a few clouds, cotton wool balls pushed by a gentle wind. Thomas decided that his favorite color was blue. Maybe it was impersonal, maybe it was generic, maybe it was common. But common was good. He had lived for far too long away from people, so he prided himself in looking like them.

He felt the water touch his feet, a soothing coolness invading his body. After focusing on the sky and the horizon, he put his glance on the soil: sand. He knew sand, that was for sure, he had bathed in it for weeks. But before, sand was sharp, pungent, harsh and sultry; it was famine, illness, affliction and despair. Right now, the billions of little ocher crystals looked far more appealing, conjuring up warmth, peace and even cordiality in the boy’s mind. Maybe people used to go to those places to have fun.

He played with the small steel pipe hanging freely around his neck, fingers clutched on the piece of metal. He had religiously kept the worn-out letter inside it in his tent, as if it was the most precious thing he possessed after his friends. In fact, it was. Of course, during times like these, he thought about Newt. He would have loved to see those sapphire waters, he who always took the time to appreciate Nature’s beauty. He had this special eye that earned him his gardener reputation back at the Maze; he had taught Thomas to distinguish different types of flowers, plants, fruits and vegetables. He knew how to direct ivy’s growth, how to spot poisonous mushrooms and berries, and all that without any memory of his previous experiences outside the Maze. His sensibility had led him very far, Thomas thought with a chuckle. Because not only was he endowed with Nature’s understanding, but he also possessed empathy towards people. It’s him who had taken Thomas under his wing when he arrived at the Maze, scared to death, amnesic and exhausted, along with Alby. The boy thought about Alby too. But in any case, every time Thomas seemed to lose his way, to abandon himself to rage and fury, Newt was there. He had enabled him to see clearly, through wrath and grief, but never without compassion.

So yeah, Newt would have been delighted to gaze upon this. Thomas didn’t, _hadn’t been able_ to bring him here; he had let him inside this forsaken city. He had let him down. He had ultimately given up, abandoning his friend. Was it because he had been too weak? Too obsessed with his own person? In any case, he had left him _rotting_ inside fire, smoke and darkness. _Alone_.

 

“Hey dumbass!” a voice cracked the air open. Thomas didn’t have the time to get out of his thoughts as a weight fell on him, burying his head into the sand. From up close, it was still goddamn rough, and the boy regretted his former poetic impulse.

“Holy shit, you should see your face! I mean, it’s ugly as usual, but now you’re full of sand, ha!” Minho giggled next to Thomas.

He had sat down next to the boy who had fallen prey to his demons. He slid his tanned arm around the boy’s neck, bringing him up close and ruffling his hair like a kid.

“Shit Minho! I’m crunching sand, it’s fricking awful!” Thomas whined.

“Oooh it’s fine, you had worse.” The Asian boy joked. “Like your actual face.”

“What do _you_ have against my _face_ , dude?”

“Nothing. It’s just ugly!”

Thomas rolled his eyes so hard up his sockets that they almost got stuck up there. But still, he laughed along, spitting sand from time to time.

“Ew, gross.”

“That wouldn’t have happened if you behaved like a responsible adult. Not like a 5-year-old.”

Minho looked offended by the last comment, eyes expressing a mixture of surprise and disgust. “Um, sorry, when did I sign up for a full-time mom? Plus, it’s a dude and it’s my age” he said, falsely outraged.

“I’m an _it_ now?” Thomas took offence at the comment. “Well, now I feel insulted.”

“Come on, you know you like it.”

“I like being insulted?”

“You like me being sarcastic and damn funny. I’m like, the funniest guy around.”

“Shit, maybe you got sand up your brain, or maybe in your ears” Thomas said in a jibe. He then proceeded to throw the coarse crystals at Minho’s face, mumbling something about checking reality. The two boys got engaged in a merciless fight, rolling in the sand like children, crying out insults and swear words.

            “Busy, boys?” a feminine voice yelled. Wrapped up in a thick wool cardigan, Brenda approached, smiling blissfully. “Didn’t know we had a kindergarten here. Or a date.”

The two boys let out a “Ewww” at 100 decibels, pushing aside each other.

“You two are aware that you look fricking dumb?” she said flatly. “Gosh, aren’t you like, 20 or 25?”

“Sorry, we were trapped in a maze and left amnesic so we don’t remember our age” Minho snorted.

“Your sarcasm is useless with me, you fool.” Brenda retorted. “Anyway, what were you doing, beside rolling on the ground in each other’s arms?”

“Very funny” Thomas said. “Minho gladly enjoyed putting sand in my mouth, so I paid him back in his own coin.”

“Actually, I don’t care, you guys are free to do whatever you want” the brunette said. “Just wanna tell you that Jorge made dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“You should say _when_ you’re hungry!” the Asian boy beamed. “I’m starving, what’s for dinner?”

“A better attitude to begin with” the girl shot, still smiling.

“Don’t try to sass me, blaze-girl.”

“That was one time!”

“Well, the kitchen remembers.”

            Thomas looked at them with fondness and warmth, like an old soul watches over children. Despite being one of the youngest, he always felt responsible for his friends, and considered himself their protector. Not in a patronizing way, but as a sacred duty; he would have sacrificed himself for them. Minho, Brenda, Jorge, Aris, Sonya, Frypan, Vincent… _Newt_. _Chuck_. _Alby_. He _should_ have. But at the same time, he was nothing without the others; he could have never done this without the precious help of his friends, and even the others, the Resistance, even Gally. And the one who made all of this possible was also Teresa. She would have loved the sea and the sky as well. Taking a mental step back, Thomas realized that he protected the others, but the others protected him too. In fact, he was extremely self-centered to see himself as the protector; he had lived thanks to and for his friends. For the innocent people. For _goodness_. Everything bounded him to humanity, not in a condescending manner, but in every aspect of his life. And he had just been aware of that. The sea made him aware of that.

He looked at the stretch of water again. A gust of wind lifted his raven hair, carrying the scent of salt, fire camp smoke, _mankind_.

Minho sat next to him again, his shoulder against Thomas’. Brenda stood next to them, feet rooted in the sandy soil. The raven-haired boy fidgeted again with the small metal pipe, eyes lost on the horizon. He remembered all the people that helped him, loved him, educated him; he had their faces engraved in his mind, like in the stone on the beach. It was the least he could do.

“Thomas” Minho said.

The boy got startled by this sudden seriousness coming from his friend; he turned his head to look into Minho’s deep dark eyes. Many times he had sought comfort and reassurance inside those eyes.

“Don’t think about it” the Asian boy asserted. “You know he wouldn’t like the fact that you torment yourself. I didn’t read the letter he gave you, but I’m pretty sure he told you that you deserved to be happy. And you do. We _all_ do, but you particularly. You have to stop bearing the world on your shoulders.”

Thomas gazed at Minho. Beyond his tough guy appearance, he was quite a philosopher. And he always had the right words. Brenda sat down too and spoke.

“He’s right, Thomas. You know, even if Minho has known you for a longer time than me, I’ve got you all figured out. You are not a selfish person. You are a _selfless_ one. You live for others, and they live thanks to you. You could have let me die the first time we were wandering through the tunnels, and yet you saved me, putting your life at risk. You could have let me die when I got bitten by one of those fricking Cranks, but you didn’t; you gave me your blood, your support. Thomas, you keep looking back on the people you lost; but look around you, and _please_ , look at the people you have saved. You are _not_ alone in this. You never were. We have stood by you because we wanted to. Even those who are not with us today tell you that.”

            Thomas looked down at the sand. When he gazed again at his friends, tears had formed in his eyes. They expressed grief, but also gratitude. As Minho took him in his arms, soon joined by Brenda, those tears fell off, rolled on his cheeks, to reach the sandy soil, like the sea touched the shore.

And just like the sea is nothing without a sun, a sky, a horizon, stars, sand or foam, Thomas was nothing without his friends. But those elements do not exist separately; they interact to form a system, something unique and complete. That’s how Thomas felt now: complete.


End file.
